


The Last Illusion

by Kandace Love (kelleykel)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ancient Greece, Characters of color, Childbirth, Dark, Empire, F/M, Gilded Cage, Historical, Jealousy, Magic, Mythology - Freeform, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Overprotectiveness, Possessive Behavior, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Rival Brothers, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26591419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelleykel/pseuds/Kandace%20Love
Summary: Too soon, Meddy, a daughter in a long line of matriarchal witches, is stripped from her home and put into the clutches of a man who would burn the world down to have her all to himself.ORA greek-inspired, magical-realism influenced story of love, obsession, and what happens when the lines between the two are blurred.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	The Last Illusion

**Author's Note:**

> “The desire to be loved is the last illusion. Give it up and you will be free.” - Margaret Atwood

When I was a little girl, I spoke like a little girl, I walked like a little girl, I talked like a little girl. I wore flower crowns in my hair, though they never seemed to last long, fissioned by my clumsy fingers. By morning, I’d have a lopsided circlet ‘round my head, like an angel’s halo against my auburn hair. By mid-day, after us children performed our games in the meadow — running around, taunting each other, falling, getting up, climbing on trees, playing solder, playing house, playing with each other — those flowers on my hair had loosened their perilous hold on one another. Instead, each stem would straighten itself out, only to get tangled in my hair.

I remember my mother, smacking my head with her wooden comb, “Tsk, Meddy, stupid girl. If you keep fidgeting, I’ll shave you bald! Wouldn’t like that, hmm? Next time, ask your sister to do it for you.”

Mother always loved sister a little bit more, but she tried her best not to be too obvious. For that, I am grateful.

But I understood then and I still understand now. Who wouldn’t have favorites, with a child like Europa? She had golden-orange locks, as though the sun itself shone through her hair strands. Her eyes were the clearest blue as if she had captured the Euphrates River itself in her irises. Her skin was healthy bronze from summers spent outside. Her lips were in a permanent pout, but always stretched to a smile, a lilting laugh rising from her mouth like the ringing bells that called us to supper. Europa’s perfection extended to everything she did — her weaving looms were always perfect, she could embroider the most idyllic scene with utmost precision, her singing voice could soothe even the most obstinate baby, her posture was as upright as the most disciplined soldier. Aphrodite herself, it seemed, would’ve stolen Europa away had she ever seen her. And as fate would have it, Europa was stolen from us.

It was on a random summer day, when the sun had barely peeked itself over the horizon, that found my sister and me sitting on our porch. Our other cousins — the boys — had not awaken yet, and they wouldn’t for some time. While Gramma would make us girls rise with the sun, the boys held a special place in her heart. For as much as Mother loved Europa to fill a pond, Gramma loved the boys enough to fill an ocean. They were free, truly free, to amuse themselves with nothing but food, play, and sleep all day. With us girls, however, our work came before leisure. There were fruits to pick, protection spells to secure, animals to tend. As the maidens and future matriarchs of the valley, it was us who had to stay behind and nurture the land. And, eventually, the boys would reciprocate this by going into the land beyond and arranging a marriage for us, so we could give birth to more girls, more women, more daughters. And mote it has been and mote it will be, until the day Helios’s chariot stops or Poseidon’s tides disappear or Zeus’s clouds fail to rise into the skies.

Fortunately, on this day, Helios was on time, and I watched as that yellow sun peeked shyly over the skyline. We had maybe a quarter’s worth of a day until noon. In my mind, I calculated how much time I could waste doing nothing before necessity would force me into my chores.

“Are you excited?” Europa’s lithe fingers glided against my hair, braiding my hair into whatever shapes her heart desired.

“Huh? For what?”

“For me, silly!”

“Congratulations—“ I paused. “On being my sister?”

She flicked her finger against my scalp; I winced. “Don’t be so obtuse. Uncle is coming back soon.”

“Uncle—?” It was hard to keep track of my mother’s brothers. Gramma had been unfortunate. While Gramma’s sisters were lucky enough to birth only females, my mother was the last child and only female in a long line of boys.

“Uncle Aegeus,”

“Uncle Aegeus? But he’s only gonna come back when he—“

“When he finds me a husband, yes!” At this, she turned me around to look me in the eyes — muddy brown meeting clear blue. “I’m getting married, Meddy!”

“Married? But—but—what about—“

“What about what?”

“I just thought we’d, you know, be like this forever. Europa, boys are gross and men are even grosser. I mean, just look at our cousins. They barely bathe!”

At this, I stood up. Europa, rising to the occasion, followed my lead.

“Be like this forever?” Europa laughed. “Meddy, we won’t just be girls forever. I’ve already gotten my first blood. And you’ll get yours soon, Mother suspects. A husband is a good thing. It means I’ll finally be a woman, and not Mother or Gramma or Papa can tell me what to do.”

“Why would you even want to get married?” I shook my head, curls pooling around my shoulders.

“Meddy — don’t do that — stop, you’re unraveling your braids — “ She raised a hand to touch me; I pulled back.

“What? Are you being serious right now?” Europa’s brows crinkled together. “I can’t believe you’re upset. Did you expect any different? Even you’ll eventually get married, too, and we can raise our children together in the valley. We can even build two houses, side-by-side.”

“I know — but — “

“But what?”

I looked into my sister’s eyes.

“I don’t know. Everything will be different. It just feels like everything will be different.”

Just then, we heard hooves beating against the ground. We both turned towards the commotion. The valley was surrounded on all sides by trees, a primordial forest composed of giant sequoias, ever greens, and tall fruiting behemoths. If magic could call the plant forth, then it was somewhere in our forest. The trees formed a thick barrier, insulating us against the outside world, on three sides. On the fourth side, there was a steep canyon, a gradual drop-off that went down further than mine eye could see. A tragedy many years ago — one of my gramma’s gramma cousins falling down there and never rising again — had forced us to weave vines around the cliff. But it was a simple solution, a makeshift barrier just to keep the children far away from it. The adults knew better than to approach it. Instinct said there was something sinister down there. Gramma and Mother and even Europa didn’t like talking about it, but I don’t think there’s anything bad down there. I think that what’s down there is the unknown, and by instinct, we inherently fear the unknown.

Quickly, a horse broke the tree line, kicking up dust and dirt around it like an ominous cloud of foretelling. The horse was moving too quickly, too fast, trampling our precious wildflowers under its feet. Europa and I exchanged curious glances. Surely, it was Uncle Aegeus, but why was he in such a hurry? Uncle knew better than to risk Gramma’s ire by destroying our delicate greenlife. After all, it would take an entire day of casting to bring them back anew.

The horse continued forward, galloping forward in a beeline towards us, towards the main house. Finally, I saw Uncle Aegeus’s face clearly against the brown cloud. His face was so alarmed, so frantic. Something was wrong. I knew immediately, and my heart sink.

“Go inside the house! Get Mother and Gramma, and Papa, too, if he’s around.”

“Meddy—“

Ignoring my sister but praying she’d listen, I raced forward, intending to meet Uncle Aegeus as soon as possible.

There was something I didn’t like in his expression. There was a deadness in his eyes, showing through on his shocked face. He had seen something. We were in danger. I could taste it in the air.

It was when I got closer. Close enough to sense the horse’s heart beat. Close enough that the ground under my feet shook with its rhythm. Close enough to see my Uncle Aegeus’s head, detached from his body, veins and tendrils dripping red blood in place of his body, eyes in pain not from shock but from horror, that I screamed.

On Uncle Aegeus’s horse was an unknown rider, gripping his head tighter and tighter so that uncle’s forehead skin was pulled back, his mouth was expanded into a lifeless scream, his eyes were rolling into nothingness-filled whites. The dust cloud had been so prominent, so thick that I had not noticed the rider himself. And the only way that cloud would have concealed the massive man riding my uncle’s prized steed was through magic.

And the only way the other riders, now bursting through the treeline as if pulled towards the valley itself, could have even found the valley was through magic.

**Author's Note:**

> I am a poet before I am a writer. But on this, I felt compelled to write a novel. Please leave a comment below! I live for reviews.


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